


Decide

by OnyxxStone



Series: Father's Love [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Consent Issues, Corporal Punishment, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Kink, Domestic Discipline, Father/Son Incest, Humiliation, M/M, Mind Games, Orgasm Control, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4016635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxxStone/pseuds/OnyxxStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It turns out Richard and his son have different definitions of ‘punishment.’  So Richard feels obligated to correct that error in thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so I'm on [ tumblr](http://onyxstone.tumblr.com) now. follow if you this kind of stuff ;)

After three weeks, Richard wondered if he would ever see Landon come in his arms again. There had been a few days early on in which Landon would touch the bruise on his neck and blush, prettily, whenever Richard came into the room. There were other times when Landon would sit close beside him on the sofa, closer than casual. But as he never said the words, Richard’s fantasies remained sequestered in his mind.

Until, one Friday evening, they didn’t.

Landon came blustering into the house. Richard could hear him before he could see him - the door to the garage slamming shut, keys smacking onto the kitchen counter – and then, there he was, his furious teenage angst on full display.

“I thought you wouldn’t be home,” he bit off.

“I thought you would be at your mother’s.” Richard countered, putting down the magazine he’d been reading.

A scoff. “I hate it over there. I hate Curtis and I hate his evil little kids.”

Richard sighed. “Even I like your stepdad, and your sisters are eight, how could they possibly be evil?”

“They’re _not_ my sisters.”

Richard stood and crossed his arms. “Landon. We talked about this when you got a car. You have responsibilities, and you can’t just avoid them by driving away. Your mother was looking forward to spending time with you this weekend, you know that? And what, you just took off in the middle of dinner?”

Landon winced. “I’m going to my room.”

“Walk away, and you’re grounded.”

There was a long, fraught pause. Then Landon turned to him and said, barely, “You wouldn’t.”

“Kid you have no idea what I’m capable of.” Richard let out a huff of a laugh, then, “What’s that, in your pocket?”  
“It’s … it’s nothing…don’t…”

He tried to hide the blue and yellow pamphlet sticking from his pocket but it was useless; Richard got his hands on it and looked it over.

“A speeding ticket? Landon, are you serious?” Landon silently kicked at the floor, skirting Richard’s ire. “And you weren’t going to tell me, were you.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Richard walked to the counter to pick up Landon’s keys, and pocketed them. “No car – ”

Landon’s voice rose: “What? You can’t!”

“ _No car_ for a month.”

“That’s not fair! Please, no,” He cried, rushing over. “Daddy, I..!”

That word.

Those two syllables, and the air in room suddenly went thick.

Richard straightened, and looked Landon over. The boy had clamped a hand over his mouth, and his eyes were wide with something like fear. He mumbled a few negligible words, like _‘that’s not what...’_ and _‘I didn’t say…’_

But both he and Richard knew: there was no taking it back.

Richard slowly walked towards the windows and shut the curtains. He pulled the keys from his pocket and said, evenly, “You can drive back to your mom’s house. Or you can tell me what you said.”

“I…” Landon gulped. “I – ”

_“Decide.”_

“I said,” Landon murmured, hanging his head, “Daddy, please don’t take the car.”

Richard hummed, and stroked his cheek with a knuckle. “You do know what’s going to happen now?” Landon nodded, slowly. “I didn’t hear you, boy.”

His eyes shifted, scared, like a cornered animal. “Y-yes, daddy. I’m going to…” he forced the words out, shakily: “…to be punished.”

“Good.” Richard pulled out his phone. “Take off your clothes,” he said, and called his ex-wife. As the dial tone rang in his ear, Landon’s fingers fumbled at the buttons in his shirt. Richard watched them tremble, and smiled.

“Marta, hey. Yeah, Landon just turned up. He got home alright.”

She had been worried, she was saying. He had left more than an hour ago.

“He got himself a speeding ticket, silly kid. He was probably trying to let off some steam.”

Tears gathered in Landon’s eyes as he shrugged out of his shirt. Is it just school, Marta was wondering, or is there anything else that would make him act out like that?

Richard smirked, and cupped Landon’s chin. “I think he’s questioning his sexuality. He’s at that age, you know.”

Landon bit back a sob, and Richard mouthed, _‘pants.’_ He couldn’t parse Marta’s outpour of sympathy, not when Landon peeled apart his zipper and lowered his jeans ever-so-carefully over his erect cock.

“I know,” he may have told her. “I’ll try.” And “Don’t worry, I won’t be too hard on him about the ticket.”

 _Can I talk to him?_ she asked. He tilted his head to the side, breathing in Landon’s panic.

“…No.” Richard sighed. “He’s gone and shut himself in his room. Bring everyone over tomorrow, though, for brunch. Landon’s treat.”

Landon closed his eyes as if he were trying to calm himself. He bit his lip as Richard finalized the time and menu with his mother, and shivered when Richard hung up. He was wearing one of those fitted, white cotton undershirts that clung to his trim torso, and nothing more.

The shirt seemed to highlight his nakedness, somehow; Landon tugged the hem in a futile effort to cover his cock, like his arousal in front his father was the cause for utmost shame.

“You poor, beautiful, boy,” said Richard with a fond smile. “Get on the floor.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh!” Landon cried. “Ah! _Oof!_ ”

He squirmed during a little reprieve from the blows Richard delivered to his ass. He was bent over Richard’s knees, his head and arms hanging to the floor. Richard had never spanked him as a child, in part because Landon never really got in trouble growing up, and partly because … well.

  
He ran a hand lightly over the little reddish circles beginning to bloom on his cheeks. He’d have to go longer to really bring the red out of his olive complexion.

He grinned. “You’ve been a bad boy, Landon.”

He smacked the top of his thighs with the wooden stir spoon from the kitchen.

“Yes!”

He smacked again sharply: “Yes, what?”

“Yes, _daddy._ ”

Saying the words had a strange effect on Landon, who shuddered every time he said it, a blush reaching the tops of his ears. Richard found it immensely endearing. He landed the spoon on the sensitive crease of his cheeks.

“Oooh! Aha – _ah!_ ”

“Are you enjoying yourself, boy?”

“N-no – _oh!_ – no, daddy…” He moaned into Richard’s leg, tensing and wiggling around each hit.

“Don’t lie.” He mumbled something that became a yelp, and Richard prodded, “What was that?”

“I said I’m sorry, daddy.”

“You’re not, yet. But you will be.”

He rearranged Landon so that he was bent over one knee, and trapped Landon’s legs under one of his own. He couldn’t squirm as easily, now, and Richard began spanking again. He was harder this time, putting genuine force behind each strike. Landon held his breath, bit back all sounds and gripped Richard’s pants tightly.

“Oh, Landon,” Richard said, cherishing his son’s stubbornness. “I **will** hear you cry.”

He poised the spoon and stuck the same spot on the same cheek, each one landing with a resounding smack. It was the sixth hit that drove the cry from his chest, making him twist and hump Richard’s leg while his other side was worked on.

Landon’s voice went ragged at the spanking continued, but not with pain; the punishment had inflamed him, unguarded him: 

“Daddy, _yes,_ ” he moaned. “Harder, fuck. I want – ” he gasped, sharply “ – _I want you._ ”

“Language,” Richard growled, scolding him with several firm swats. He switched to hands, and Landon melded to his knee with a low whine.

“I am a bad boy, daddy.” He craned his neck to look up at him. “You have to punish me.”

He realized that the emotions he thought to be diffusing – the teenage anger, the stress – it had reformed in Landon; instead of breaking him down, Richard had released something wild and ferocious. In the following pause, Landon pushed himself upright and stared at his father. Chest heaving, desire bared, he stood between Richard’s thighs and licked his lips.

And Richard froze when Landon said, clearly, “Fuck me.”

His eyes were a challenge, and his face was set with misguided determination. He dove for Richard’s belt buckle, attempting to straddle him. “I wanted you to punish me, so fucking do it, _daddy,_ and fuck me!”

He gasped in shock when Richard slapped him.

It wasn’t hard.

Just hard enough.

Nostrils flaring to rein in his fervor, he said, “On your knees, boy. Spread yourself for me. No. Wider…that’s it.”

Landon scurried to obey: his face was pressed against the sofa cushion, his hands stretched behind him to pull apart his reddened cheeks. His son presented Richard with the most perfect, virgin hole he had ever seen, he was going to savor destroying it.

Licking his middle finger, he shoved it in, hard. Landon let out a sharp cry, and Richard placed a heavy hand at the base of his neck.

“Did I say you could move?”

Landon groaned and went still, but his whole body shook as Richard found the round little surface of his prostate.

“God, yes, daddy,” he panted, his eyes rolling back. “Oh, fuck that feels good.”

Richard pressed his forearm along the center of Landon’s back to stop the squirming, and his cries grew louder. “I want _more_ … I want it so bad, daddy, please!”

Landon’s cock was leaking steadily, and a string of it connected to his thigh. Reading the warning signs, he drew his finger away and it garnered soft, percussive moans from Landon’s chest. He curled a knuckle still within, tugging the rim from the inside. Predictably, Landon jolted against his arm, but made new, beautiful sounds that made Richard wish he were recording this, somehow.

“Mmm. Let daddy hear you.” And Landon gave him those quiet little whimpers that now narrated his dreams every night.

So ready to be fucked, so trusting, that he never expected the handle of the spoon to come hurtling down on his exposed, sensitized hole. The scream he loosed was delicious, and he tried to scramble away but Richard was waiting for him: a firm hand on the small of his back, a knee trapped between his own, and Landon was rendered immobile against the couch, completely at the mercy of the sharp underhanded smacks that landed between his legs.

The inside of one cheek - _crack_. The other – _crack._

His taint, _whack._

Yelps, squeals, muffled moans…and Landon was finally coming apart.

“What?” said Richard, a mean streak curling his words. “Did you actually think I would fuck a dirty little delinquent like you? Lying to your parents. Walking out on dinner. A speeding ticket. You’re not worthy of your daddy’s cock.”

Landon twisted, groaning at the incessant _pat-pat-pat_ on his tight balls. “P-please…”

“You would love it, wouldn’t you, boy? Daddy’s cock splitting you open, fucking you senseless. You want to be full of me. You want me to come so deep inside you won’t be able to walk right.”

Two sharp swats landed on either side of his clenched hole; he shook his head, and tears of pain and disappointment moistened the cushion.

“Don’t lie to me, Landon. This is your punishment. And bad little boys like you don’t get to choose what they get.” He aligned the handle of the spoon with the reddened hole, and raised it.

 _Thwack._  
_Thwack. **  
Thwack.**_

Landon screamed from his gut and twisted violently off the couch, choking on his cries and shaking. He inched away from Richard as he approached, his gaze heated but limbs huddled in fear. His father paused, observed him curiously, and set the spoon down.

He took a breath. “Perhaps, tonight, I can be nice. Would you like that, Landon,” said Richard, not waiting for a response. He took his son’s cock in hand, and stroked it slowly. “Would you like me to let you come?”

Landon moaned deeply from his throat. His cock was half-hard after the beating to his hole, but it took no time for Richard to coax it back to its full length.

Oh, to be young.

Landon’s mind was elsewhere; he was distraught and confused, and clearly didn’t want to enjoy this. But pleasure was pleasure, and in the end he rolled to his back to give Richard better access.

The poor kid still had a lot to learn.

His father continued those long, protracted strokes, and he arched, crying, when Richard’s middle finger found the abused entrance to body.

“No, please, daddy,” he gasped, his eyes widened in horror. He tried, pointlessly, to close his knees. He pushed Richard weakly with the balls of his feet. “Not… _there_!”

He gave a shout as Richard mercilessly pressed his finger past the inflamed barrier. God, the boy was tight, his body a furnace. He sobbed as Richard fondled his sensitive prostate with the pad of his fingertip, and played idly with his cock.

“Stop resisting me, Landon.”

His son stared at him, his expression disbelieving, lustful and broken in turns. He looked glorious like this, splayed and breached, crying and wanting.

One day, Richard promised himself, he would have Landon like he craved. He would replace his fingers with what they were meant for. He would take his pleasure in Landon’s body, making him come, making him look as helplessly, utterly splendid as he did right then.

“Hush,” he said, forcing Landon’s hips down as they strove away from his touch.  
He stroked him with relentless dispassion, unmoved by the sobs escaping chest, the quake of his shoulders, or the jut of hips.

“It burns, daddy.” Tears ran into his hair, and he made a feeble gurgling noise in his throat. “Just…stop, please….stop…” said Landon, though he must have known he wouldn’t.

Richard kept his maddening slow pace, making Landon work for it through his distress. Richard cooed in mock sympathy as he squeezed in his forefinger in alongside the other, the skin hot and angry. Another person may have called his cries pitiable.

“You don’t want daddy’s cock anymore?”

“N-n-no, I’m…” his voice broke.

_Ah._

These were the tears Richard was waiting for: heaving, helpless sobs that he muffled into the crook of his elbow, hiding his face. His chest rose in an erratic pattern with his panting cries, and his legs fell open, giving up their gentle struggle.

This was a boy surrendered.

Landon’s whole body trembled in torment and despite it all, his cock was a hard, dark red and leaked across his hip. Moans broke though his tears and grew impatient as the tension built. Watching the muscles under his touch start to contract more frequently, Richard waited until the last possible moment, and then withdrew his hands.  
Landon screamed at the lack of contact, scrambling to replace Richard’s grip before his wrists were pinned to the floor. He twitched, sought friction for his impending release, and failed.

Miserably, he came crying into the floor as Richard rubbed his shoulder.  
The ruined climax was over before it began, and Landon curled into a fetal position, his body wracked with sobs and pain.

“… _I’m sorry!_ ” Landon moaned, his voice rough. “ _Daddy, please, I’m…I’m sorry._ ”

Richard blinked, and a quiet sound seeped from his chest as he exhaled. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty in front of him before he left, the memory made sweeter with Landon’s mellifluous cries: Landon had wrapped arms around himself like he was trying to disappear - his shirt stained now with sweat, cum and tears - and Richard hoped it wouldn’t be long before he could see this again.

Having recently bought moisturizing lotion and aloe vera gel for this very occasion, he retrieved them from the powder room cabinet when he went to wash his hands. It was just off the living room, and he followed Landon’s whimpers back to the small heap of beautiful, shuddering boy on the floor. He put down the ointments, and sat against the couch.

“Your punishment is over, Landon.” He stroked the soft dark hair, and continued down his back. Landon calmed at the touch, rolling into it, and drawn like a flower to the sun. “Come here,” he said, and guided Landon to lie across his lap.

The boy stiffened mutely as Richard caressed the hot, reddened skin. “Quiet, now,” he soothed as he spread the mild lotion all over the tender areas, from back of the thigh to the middle of his back. “You’re alright.”

Landon’s cries grew less frequent and eventually stopped. There was a little protest, however, when Richard’s fingers reached into the crevice, and his legs locked together. “Hey, hey, stop that,” Richard scolded gently, poking the tense glutes. Landon sniffled as his thighs were pressed apart.

“Come on, boy,” said Richard, applying steady pressure to the inside of the cheeks. “Let daddy see you, hmm?”

It took a full minute of coaxing before his muscles went lax, and Richard could see the red, precious hole in all its abused beauty. He never stopped talking, though it was just low, nonsensical sounds to mollify his son. Hushing him, telling him how beautiful he was, how well he had taken his punishment, etc. But Landon bathed in the affection, and let Richard tend to his intimate pain. The cool aloe vera gel made him jump before he gave in to the massage.

“All done,” said Richard eventually. He pulled Landon up and brought him to straddle his lap, and lifted the cotton undershirt away. When Landon’s arms came down, they went around his shoulders.

It was never so apparent as it was right then, how lovely Landon was when he cried: his lips looked especially plush, and turned a pinkish red. The same color blushed his cheeks and tinged the corners of his dark, almond eyes. His eyelashes clung with tears like they had the time before.

On instinct Richard cupped his face and kissed him. Landon made a soft sound of surprise before he leaned into it, and let his body rest soundly against his father.  
Afterwards Richard tucked the boy’s head under his chin, and rubbed firm circles across his shoulder blades. Landon shuffled and squirmed slightly before settling into Richard’s lap like the good boy he was.

"...that's it."

He held his son close and kissed his temple until he could feel Landon’s heartbeat slowly even out.  And once he was sure that Landon was well and truly sated, he eased the boy up and led him to his room by the hand, and tucked him into bed.


	3. Chapter 3

An hour or so later, Richard was flicking through emails on his phone when a knock sounded at his bedroom door.

“Yes, Landon?”

His son peered around it, hiding his nakedness against the doorframe. He found his father sitting upright in bed, softening at the sight of him.

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

Richard turned down the sheets next to him in reply. Shyly, Landon scampered towards the bed and climbed in, burrowing himself into Richard’s arms. Honestly, Richard thought, he couldn’t be more adorable.

But as soon as the lights went out, Richard felt a hand creep under the waistband of his pajamas, and sighed.

“Landon. What are you doing.”

He jolted. “I thought I might… I mean, I thought you, um…”

Richard brought the hand up to rest on his chest instead. “I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.” He ruffled Landon’s curls, and kissed them. “Unlike some people.”

Landon let out a bashful _‘oh’_ and lowered his eyes. Chuckling, Richard pet his hair, letting a finger trail behind his ear and down the side of his neck.

“When I fuck you, Landon, it won’t be because you want me to. It will be because you need me to.”

His son nestled closer to his side, an arm belted around his waist. “And tonight, I needed … to be punished?”

Richard nodded. “Taking cock is no punishment, boy.”

Landon hummed into his chest, and then, softly, kissed him through his shirt. There was a delicate pause. Then, “Thank you, daddy,” he whispered.

Overwhelming fondness bloomed inside Richard and threatened to close off his throat. Not trusting his voice, he sighed with a low, warm sound, and Landon sank deeper into their embrace. One of his fingertips traced spirals on Richard’s side.

“I’m sorry about the speeding ticket,” he was saying. “I’ll pay it from my summer savings.”

Richard laughed, then. “Kid, what are you talking about… you already paid for it.”

With a grin, Landon rose up to kiss him. There wasn’t hunger in it, but something equally powerful, like promise. They shifted, the better to hold one another, and played this languid game of lips and tongue and tenderness. His son may have been a virgin but he was not new to this kind of intimacy, and they basked in it together, leisurely and wantonly.

“Ah, go to sleep now,” Richard chided him with a smile. “You still have to cook brunch for six tomorrow.”

Landon groaned mirthfully and settled down in his arms. “If you say so.”

It was sweet, how easily Landon fell asleep. His beautiful boy.

Richard drifted off later on to the sound of soft breathing in his ear, the little nudge of a cock against his hip, and dreamed of the day he would be needed like so, desperately wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, imagine Landon’s face during brunch the next day. 
> 
> >:)
> 
> If you see any typos, feel free to let me know! Comments and feedback are very welcome.
> 
> And again, just to be clear, Landon is a minor and his father is a manipulative son of a bitch. In real life this not okay. To me, what makes it hot – and horrifying – is how deceivingly normal these characters are. But hot/horrifying is my sweet spot and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Next up: Landon’s report card arrives.


End file.
